The Documentrix
by Morgane Lurker
Summary: A collection of oneshots revolving around everything from the Architect to the Oracle. 1: Sati owns a Smith clone. 4: What did the Architect forget to create?
1. Sati pwns a Smith clone

** Ch 01. **

**Title: Sati Owns a Smith** **Clone**

Genre: Humor/General.

Setting: After Neo's visit at the Oracle's apartment in _Revolutions._

Summary: Sati pwns a Smith Clone. What more can I say?

Disclaimer: All characters and locations with given names existing within the Matrix- universe belong to the Wachowski brothers.

* * *

He couldn't call them valuable to the Matrix. An Oracle contemplating the development with a cigarette thrust in between her sallow fingertips. A Guardian watching over aforementioned useless article, and a girl whom only was there to be aware of the dream world.

And if you were 'aware' inside the Matrix, you also were in trouble. Smith would ensure that.

The last lights went out when Smith and his copies entered the corridor. Everyone of them knew the Exiles must be somewhere in here - they saw them already in the stairway. And unless Seraph was able to fly without his wings, which he hadn't been in the last century, they must be hiding in one of the building's decaying apartments.

Smith opened a door, and then another one. In the dust-grey room inside, two shapes stood pressed against the wall and tried to blend in with the wallpaper's pattern.

'' It's been a long time ago. I remember chasing you was like chasing a ghost'' Smith saluted the guardian.

Sati at the other hand didn't know what to say, watching the Virus with same roundeyed wonder every person caused her the first time she met them. There it was again, that silently mindful awareness. Smith decided she would be the easiest to deceive.

'' And you must be the last Exile''. The Virus sat down at his heels, acting like the girl just had been introduced to him as the child of a long lost acquaintance.

In a way it was true - Smith's and the Ramachandras' opinions had clashed many times before.

'' The Oracle has told me about you'' Sati informed him in a frightened whisper.

'' Really? What did she say?'' A similar tone, and Smith could just as easily have asked what the child thought of Megacity this far.

'' That you were a bad man''.

What else could he expect of the old hag? A long time ago she had ceased to sweep his path as every ounce of control over the Virus had gone out of her hands.

Those dark brown eyes and the negative attitude to his being brought up too many uncomfortable memories. Pressing his thumbs to the girl's shoulders, Smith began to overwrite her code.

'' No!'' Beset with ferocity Seraph tried to escape the dark mass of Viruses holding him back only to have his arms locked in a vice grip, the copies holding him down like he was a tent canvas near to be swept away by the wind.

'' Why do you keep struggling, Seraph?'' Smith pondered, '' it has no purpose anymore''. After a moment the Guardian halted his fighting - even if he succeeded in escaping the clones now, he knew no efficient way to stop the code from overwriting Sati.

Eventually Smith removed his hand from the cluster of swarming code, surveying his work.

Naturally, the copy was crouching - Smith wasn't in the mood for bending every single rule of the Matrix and have his clones sprout upwards like some ludicrous potato haulm. It could stand up by itself anyway and would accomplish this task in due time.

Sati, now Smith-clone 2958, clumsily stumbled back to stand beside the overpowered Guardian, and leaned flabbergasted against the wall. Seraph shook his head in frustration over the happened, irately gnashing his teeth. Nobody else would know that another small program was consumed today. None but he…

And Smith too.

The mass of Viruses billowed backwards around the wingless angel, as their leader approached. Forcing up the guardian's face with his shoe tip, Smith stared him right in the eye.

'' Your turn, Seraph. I don't know, perhaps you predicted this situation when you studied your tealeaves this morning, perhaps not. But that's irrelevant now…''

Behind the dark glasses, Seraph shut his eyes.

'' That's right'', he heard Smith mutter, ''prepare for the inevitable''.

* * *

The oven was shut off, and freshly baked cookies were piled up in a sweet china bowl on the table. Now all that was left for the Oracle was to wait for them… Or him, depending on how you saw it.

Quietly and slowly like a funeral procession they came, a dozen suit-clad viruses whom sequentially broke the surface of her beaded kitchen drapery and effectively closed out the sunshine as they formed a barricade against the window. Silence reigned for a while.

The Oracle did something she'd never done in front of Sati or the pre-Neo-potentials - smoked a cigarette. Behind the dark sunglasses, the two latest Smith-converted Exiles lost their eyebrows to their hairline at this rare occurrence.

'' Great and powerful Oracle'', Smith addressed her, '' I suppose you expected me. Nothing surprises the omniscient Oracle, or does it? But if that's true, then why does she stay here?''

The program gave him an almost unwelcoming expression, telling Smith to go figure it out by himself. Actually, one should have considered him to do so before…

Smith swept up the Oracle's bowl of cookies from the table and slammed it into the wall, shards flying in fan-shape over the floor. Some landed next to copy 2958 who had time to think it was a pity regarding the cookies, before it realized it was malfunctioning more than usually.

'' Maybe you saw it was going to happen, maybe you didn't do it, but if you did it means you baked those cookies and set them right there purposely, deliberately!'' The Virus beside the table yelled at the Oracle, but clone 2958 was more concerned with the Exile rests worming deeper into its core. Damn that little imp, her data was fighting back!

'' What have you done with Sati?'' Certainly the Oracle felt worry for Seraph too, but she had sort of seen it coming that Smith would convert the guardian into another clone. Sati could still be hiding in the house's attic or escaped through a back door.

What was left of the girl - a tiny green code stirring inside the clone - suddenly felt compelled to reveal itself:

'' Cookies need love like everything does''. It was almost pensive, that was not the loving way Sati once had said it. The other Smiths cackled in perfect chorus, while the clone withdrew to the outskirts of their group. Oracle's face twisted with anger.

'' You bastard…'' She grinded the cigarette butt in the ashtray.

'' Oh, but you know me, mom…'' Smith tilted his head in a mockingly hurt way.

'' Just do what you came here to do'' the older program told him. Was it a plead, was it an order? All too irrelevant.

'' Yes, ma'am ''. Motioning closer Smith examinated where would be the best place to let the infection begin. He remembered the older shell had had a medium-sized burn on the wrist after a scorching hot baking plate, and actually it had remained on her arm. Programs may not identify pain the way humans did, but Smith still felt satisfaction in causing the Oracle even a little of it when he drove his fingertips into the reddening spot on her Matrix arm.

As Smith's code infected our Oracle's RSI, things started to flail about. A strong turmoil formed around the two and grew into a storm, turning the kitchen interior over. A toppling coffee jar tipped out the Oracle's entire small-change, and clone 2958 stopped just long enough to fill its pockets with five dollars in coins before exiting through the door. Of all the Smith-clones inside the room, only the one containing Seraph could possibly have noticed the gust coming from another source than the by code connected programs. 2958 ran down the stairs and was gone.

'' Chocolate! Liquorice! Banana split, ice lollipops…''

The lady behind the narrow counter trailed off, as a man in his early forties approached the ice cream stand. He was very rude, pushing the lined up kids aside and striding forward with the effect of a tank.

The bill swiveled through the air and landed on the cart 's glass lid as he arrived at the counter.

'' One blueberry cone''. It was not a wish; it was an order to the lady behind the cart. She glared surly at him with her little piggy eyes, and the clone quickly added:

''…Please''.

'' Haven't your parents taught you manners?'' The woman spat out grossly. '' Now let the others go first in line, they were here before you! An adult who behaves like that, shame on you!''

The clone reacted like Sati at the false accusations against Rama and Kamala - but it acted like Smith; simply lunged its hand into the lady's stomach and overwrites her code.

The children screamed and ran helter-skelter across the yard, some bumping into each other, others cried for mommy and vanished among the houses within seconds. Left stood Smith-copies 2058 and 2061, surveying each others correct clothing for a moment before the newest clone with dignified pace bent down and picked a cone wrapped in blue paper from the freezer box, handing it over to his fellow copy.

'' Thank you '' Smith 2058 received the item and instantly began tearing off the paper from this new-won trophy, while sitting down in one of the playground's swings. Clone 2061 gave a curt nod, continuing down the street to draw more customers (and victims) to the ice cream cart.

The Oracle-Smith, then?

At the moment this clone stood up, vindictively glaring Smith in the eye. The original virus pulled away, as if he'd found a rattlesnake in this kitchen and now waited for a bite.

It never came - right then clone 2060 had a vision with its gifted eyes; A TV-team preparing a news coverage of something peculiar. They never broadcast it though, they are Smith-copies before nightfall. But about what would the team talk about, if they had had the time to…?

And then a ludicrous image popped up in the clone's mind.

It began to laugh. First forced like a participant in a relaxation exercise, then loud and unrestrained until none could stop it - did it matter anymore, anyway?

The clone's vision pictured two other Smiths standing in the yard, trading ice cream and money right now. The one holding a blueberry cone padded over to a swing in the playground, thumped down in it and started to lick at the frozen delicacy.

The image faded, and the clone stood there guffawing madly meanwhile original Smith hung over the balcony rail screaming at his copy in the playground:

'' Me there! Yes, me! Get back here!''

Seldom had an ice cream tasted this good - both Sati and the Smith clone agreed in concord upon this. It was still cold in 2058's mouth when two black clad shapes, holding a noodle can each, rounded the corner. After a short but harsh battle of the program minds, Sati and the Smith united around recognizing those newcomers as-

''Mr Anderson! Trinity!'' The clone ran up and threw the waffle cone aside. Said couple halted abruptly when they saw him come dashing across the street.

'' Damn! We can't even have lunch without him around!'' Neo growled. The duo hadn't jacked out just yet, because they decided to still this artificial hunger first. Now Trinity cocked the gun and Neo took on a battle position. However, Smith's first move was totally unpredictable.

'' I'm glad you got out from there!'' He jumped up and down like an anxious boxer pup, his necktie flapping about. Trinity stared. Neo stared, and suddenly the clone flung his arms around the One and floored him. Of course, the One reacted at this with self-control.

'' TRINITY! HELP!''

Long before Neo had Trinity realized what assistance he needed in this fight, and with her arms firmly clasped around the One's waist she began a tug-of-war with clone 2958. The copy proved itself a worthy challenger, but even in its divided mind struggled two wills; one half wanted to release Neo from a friendly hug, the other to crush mr Anderson flat against the pavement.

Neo gave a sound like a spring someone's stretching out, and succeeded to kick the Smith copy in the stomach. Oh, the awkwardness - people must think they were witnessing a triangle drama. While Trinity effectively separated the two combatants, Smith hid himself behind the balcony rail. None but he may realize this, but Sati's code had outrun at least one of his copies - made it buy ice cream and sit in a playground swing, not to mention the encounter with mr Anderson. It was even possible the Architect right now stumbled out of his swivelling chair to take a closer look at this exact moment through his television screens.

The Oracle-clone was still laughing, and just outside Smith's vision field the Seraph-clone enthusiastically applauded at his former protégé's deeds…

'' I've had better weeks'' the Virus muttered and tiredly rubbed his face.

* * *

There's simply not enough fanfic with Sati, so I felt the urge to write one based on an idea for a cartoon I had a long time ago. Hope it's enjoyable even though I posted it a little earlier than it was meant to. Originally I had the idea of to write a prologue to all following oneshots, but I think it will be one among the others if I write it down.

Anyways, Merry Smithmas and a Happy Neo Year to you all! (grin)

A/N March 2008: Minor grammatical edits done.


	2. Shades

**Title: Shades **

**Summary:**Neo, stuck in the Mobil Ave, tries to entertain himself by dreaming…

**Rating:**T

**Pairing:**Trinity x Neo

* * *

With the thought he'd at least kill time with it, Neo lay down on the wooden bench and tried to doze off. 

It did not work very well. Turning over to see if sleeping on his other side was any better (it wasn't), Neo eventually tried to tempt himself with all things he could dream about if those eyelids only would shut together.

Flying, for instance. But during the last hours flying had somehow become very synonymous with danger - he'd escaped a battle gone way out of hand, outrun explosions and narrowly saved Trinity from death. Aroused with adrenaline he'd left the maze of buildings below, the cool air brushing off the debris their wake wind brought. First then he'd become aware of how Trinity seized in his grip, strained like a spring ready to jump out of her own skin…

He stopped there. Flight was nothing he had to dream about anyway - technically he already dreamed when staying in the Matrix.

A sudden, brief pulse of malice ran through him upon realizing the agent that shot Trinity could not escape Smith's copies forever.

Focusing on something else; Blackness. Many great things had come out of unleashing your mind - Neo didn't have to look further than to the potentials in the Oracle's apartment.

A grey white square whirled around against the back of his eyelids, and he smiled - of course, New York Times with a ludicrous headline - Would be interesting to see what it said- The sentinel darted past and out of sight, and with a 'what!' itched in his throat the One flew up from the bench. If he'd dreamt of New York Times's headline, Neo imagined his brain could come up with anything random and he'd still be aware of his part in the creation. This image however had come out of nowhere and caught him off guard.

'' No. No, not another vision of the future…'' Realizing what his 'dream' might have been, Neo lay down and tried to concentrate on first best thing that came to his mind.

-----

The world had been dusk grey at the edges and pitch-black in the middle, Trinity a gleaming silhouette only a step away. He had cracked a joke about how odd it felt too wear sunglasses in the dead of the night, but Trinity understood the underlying question.

''Safety reasons. If the agents narrowly missed a rebel without shades they'd still have a face to decorate town with. If every bluepill knows what to look for jacking into the Matrix becomes a living hell''.

'' Then again Morpheus sees them as a symbol of resistance - we're not blinded from the truth anymore by the Matrix. And your reason for wearing them''- here Trinity gripped lightly around the bows of Neo's glasses and adjusted them to sit a little closer to his eyes - '' is that you look damn striking in them''.

Blue arrows of light abruptly split the image, and were a second later replaced with the view of a sterile train station. Embarrassed over falling asleep in a public place Neo swiftly sat up, but in a moment realizing he still was inside the deserted Mobil Ave.

That last image on his retina could've been a glimpse of a dream taking place inside and electric current. It would have been comfortable to believe so, but like the vision of the sentinel this one had come totally unexpected.

'' Concentrate'' he told himself, ''if you can get in here you can get out of here too''. But time after time the same image returned, clearer, wider, more detailed.

A wail from the rails alerted him in time to see the train rush into the station and make a screeching halt in front of the platform. A wild idea that the Ramachandras had hijacked the train and returned briefly crossed his mind before the doors slid open and Trinity stepped out.

It was indeed a wonderful sight that instantly swept away all tiredness. Trinity deftly took off her sunglasses to reveal her eyes, which resembled glass marbles by how the light played in them. Overjoyed, Neo caught her in his arms a moment later

'' You look puzzled'' Trinity remarked over the wail from the train rails. Neo turned his gaze from the dark and peculiarly long tunnel to face her instead.

'' It's only a detail, but… You took off your shades back in the Mobil Ave, and it made me think of what you once said about sunglasses''.

'' We wear them to protect our identity, show what we stand for and look generally cool. Yes, what about them?'' She turned to him, and he repaid the gentle smile on her lips.

'' I'm gonna sound like Smith and his likes here'' Neo gaze darted to his feet in discomfort over the name, '' but which one was the main reason you took them off?''

'' Apart from that it was an option?'' Trinity could see how he brightened a little at her Insert, probably the train of thoughts felt more humane than machinery again.

'' Well, if I had kept them on'' she stepped across the small space between their seats to sit down next to Neo, '' I couldn't have done this''. And with that, Trinity pressed her lips to Neo's.

* * *

**Yeah I know, the modified holiday greetings at the previous chapter indicated it would be the last story I wrote during this year, but I figured since I currently have more time than usually at my hands it could be worth to clean out my fanfic folder a bit. Constructive criticism and reviews are very welcome!**

**/Morgane**


	3. Twist of Separation

**Twist of Separation **

**Category: **Romance/Angst

**Pairing: **The Merovingian x Persephone

**Other: **Written for the 1sentencetheme sets over at LiveJournal, published here after a proposal from my sister and while I wait for the claim to be listed.

* * *

**Twist of Separation**

#1. Memory  
Persephone recalls, that for three years was their marriage like the height of the summer.

#2. Laugh  
Something to laugh bitterly at: 'Betrothed' sounded humorously close to 'be throttled'.

#3. Dance  
Persephone might be the one looking like a doll, but he was the puppet dancing when she pulled the strings.

#4. Fire  
And on they bicker, like flames.

#5. Formal  
Nowadays they were married mostly to have someone introducing one another during formal dinners.

#6. Temptation  
The first time they met, he melted like a piece of chocolate in her well-manicured hands.

#7. Conversation  
Conversations over candlelit dinners fit perfectly into their life; one didn't want them, the other hadn't time for them.

#8. Red  
''Persephone, listen to this; Roses are red and diamonds are blue-'' ''- you've drunk too much wine again, haven't you?''

#9. Cold  
The longer his eyes stared into the logfire the more warmth they seemed to imbibe, but never did he slip a flicker of it to her.

#10. Forever  
Despite having this eternity of Matrix stretching out in all directions, it feels like they're wasting their time…

#11. Lock  
If the castle was full of locks, barriers and inhibitions, her husband sure was the opposite.

#12. Box  
Ramachandra said: '' The word 'love' is like a box to keep the content in - though, the Merovingians must have thrown it away to refill with something else''.

#13. Midnight  
Today at midnight they sleep together - In the literal, most decent meaning.

#14. Breathe  
He's like a bad odour - easier to breathe without him when she doesn't have to brace herself for next disgusting habit or open flirtation with other women.

#15. Ring  
If a ring represented love, this would mean after centuries of marriage she still had her husband's heart wrapped around her finger.

#16. Silk  
After the incident with the woman at La Vrei Merovingian tried to smooth it over praising her hair (''it's like silk''), but she snatched the strands out of his grip with the poisonous reply '' and do not use it to wipe your ass with!''

#17. Fall  
Their marriage began as a summerday, then turned into fall - will it ever be a new spring again?

#18. Candle  
Sometimes she could glimpse the shadow of the man she'd fallen for in him, like the smoke after a blown out candle.

#19. World  
Briefly he might realize there's another world than his hell, and goes to regard Persephone where she sits in the library's sofa staring at nothing but the walls.

#20. Wings  
Once in time she could wish for anything and he'd give it to her, so when Seraph betrayed them she asked for his wings on a silver plate - and the Merovingian brought them to his wife, but at the same time their problems began, almost like a curse.

#21. Music  
Merovingian once thought that if there was still a moment when Persephone's grace and taste came to their right, it was when she played the piano.

#22. Lies  
How could music and love, which you couldn't touch or taste, be considered true and existing when Matrix was claimed to be a lie?

#23. Promise  
A long time ago the Architect promised to take care of the twins for one day every twentieth year or so, because Persephone and the Merovingian pointed out his equation wouldn't be balanced with a torn apart Underworld.

#24 . Formal  
Nowadays they were married mostly to have someone whom introduced one another during formal dinners.

#25. Body  
'' It's really a waste that someone with her body would be married to such an old fossil'' Twin One told his brother as they discussed their masters.

#26. Drink  
Merovingian thinks it's compassionate to save her from a sip of bad wine by drinking it himself.

#27. Hero  
'' You've certainly good looks, Neo, but compared to my husband's omniscient persona you are is about as deep as one of those spoonbowls you use to bend'' Persephone muttered to herself watching the flying man speed southwards over the hilltops.

#28. Dream  
Persephone wasn't the one to let anything within her reach remain a dream: she sampled kisses from interesting visitors and took out her rage on an Exile by the help of her trusty handgun.

#29. Gravity  
From a window in their chateau Persephone watched Neo zoom away over the mountains, and suddenly wishes she could repeat his defying of gravity and leave this place.  
#30. Highway  
When the police came to tell them the twins had been blown up in the middle of the freeway the Exile royalties tried their best to look regretful, though they knew the twins were probably already updating and rebooting somewhere at the sidelines, e.g. the sidewalk of a highway.

#31. Hope  
Luckily for Persephone, what you never was programmed with can never be lost; Hope, humanity's greatest strength yet simultaneously weakest point.

#32. Whisper  
In the dark tense air of the club he could still get the impulse to lean closer and whisper something in her ear like during older days, but the loud music or their henchmen always got in the way.

#33. Midnight  
'' Why do you need me to be at home by 24 o'clock, when everything else in our château, from the library to the kitchen, is available until midnight and past?'' He once asked Persephone indignantly.

#34. Hurricane  
When the sky darkened, rain began to fall and humans disappeared all over Mega City, the two are some of the very few to realize it's not a hurricane, but Smith, approaching.

#35. Cover  
While their henchmen panic in the bottom floor Persephone merely takes cover from Smith in the library - she's almost looking forward to meet this man that is so eager to get hold of her.

#36. Strength  
''So neither the Merovingian's power, the gathered forces of the Exiles or mr Anderson's 'psychical strength' can do anything to save your kind now'' Smith muses as he walks up to her.

#37. Farewell  
'' So you agree with me when I say it would only serve my husband right if his wife was turned into a virus?'' she smiled quietly.

#38. Masks  
Finally the Virus is defeated, and as these emotionless masks of Smith copies melt away, Persephone finds herself taking support against a park bench in West Mega City.

#39. Journey  
On her journey back to Club Hel Persephone realizes everybody else is wandering aimlessly or running - except her, maybe because she knows her goal, but is in no hurry to reach it…

#40. Overwhelmed  
….But back at the club the Merovingian meets up with her saying '' It could've ended a lot worse'': after that he doesn't word much about it, but for the first time during his existence he hasn't been able to tell the consequences from looking at the causes, and Persephone can tell he's bothered by it.

#41. Sacred  
And sure, not long after the final showdown between Smith and Neo in a raging thunderstorm, the two Exiles see a colourful sunrise in the East, and the moment is almost sacred when a new dawn breaks.

#42. Eclipse  
Persephone, being the more romantic of the two, finds some kind of simile in the sunrise; Their marriage began in an eclipse of the real world, but continues for now in a much lighter air.

#43. Cold  
One day Persephone managed the unbelievable for programs and caught a cold, but even though the Merovingian frowned at this he still made sure dinner and reading were sent to her bedside.

#44. View  
''Don't worry dear'' the Merovingian called apologetically. after accidentally walking into the dressing room while his wife was in there redressing before dinner, '' I didn't mind the view…''

#45. Run  
''Do you know what I'm thinking of?'' she asks, simultaneously running her fingers over his shirt front in a heavily implying way.

#46. Talk  
There's a thing they've reinvented themselves on, which hasn't been done in quite a while: They talk confidentially to each other again.

#47. Silence  
''Nowadays they're hardly silent even in the night'' the twins mischievously tell Niobe when she comes to bargain with the Merovingian.

#48. Search  
In the beginning of his programmed existence the Merovingian never had to search for a wife : Persephone was created especially for him.

#49. Talent  
''Does that women-charming talent of yours still exist?'' Persephone asked whilst they celebrated the new Era with a glass of champagne.

#50. Wait  
''Yes'' he replied and put a hand to her cheek, ''it's just been on hiatus for a very long time - my apologies if it made you wait''.

* * *

Really, I've missed updating.

/Morgane

* * *


	4. The God particle

**Ch 04. **

**Title: The God particle**

Genre: Humour/General

Setting: Year 2010 A.D, Matrix-time.

Summary: What did the Architect forget?

Disclaimer: All characters and locations with given names existing within the Matrix- universe belong to the Wachowski brothers.

* * *

The imperfection inherent in every human being was about to be proved to the Architect once again as the program agent Gray contacted him this afternoon.

Right before the unfolding of the ensuing events he was under the impression that the Matrix was a flawless flaw; it would never be equal to the sublime creation Matrix 1,0 had constituted, but this present version was far more credible as an imitation of the human civilisation in the year of 2010. The system lacked nothing, every required code from the ones building up atoms to the ones creating physical laws were present, and thus the system was so complete that if normal human beings were to scan it for missing details they would gather nothing.

But as I was saying, this illusion failed when agent Gray contacted him over the hotline specifically designed for any and all emergency cases. Located on the armrest of the Architect's chair was a button marked RECEIVE, and as he pressed it the call went out in the loudspeaker system whilst the agent's appeared on one of the several surveillance screens.

'' I am listening'' he declared and thus permitted the other program to speak.

'' Sir, we are experiencing some trouble down here'' agent Gray reported, 'down here' being his substitute for 'in the Matrix'.

'' Please expand upon that''. The Architect clasped his hands and watched as the program surprisingly enough produced an issue of National Geographic and began summarizing the primary article.

'' Scientists at CERN have attempted to create a perfect vacuum for closer study whether there could be - to quote the article- 'something in the nothing' inside it. However the results are uncertain due to what their scanning tunnel microscope captured from the experiment…''

Agent Gray held up the pertaining article towards the TV screen. Briefly the Architect pressed the top of his ballpoint pen so the image was magnified to occupy several of the screens, thus made easier to inspect. His attention turned from the Agent towards the picture - and remained there for a long while. Line after line of green code rolled down through a wormhole in the system, fully visible like the wall under tattered wallpaper: A certain sign that nothing had been created to fill out this space of the Matrix. _Nothingness _was missing.

Slowly, methodically the Architect lifted his hand to his face and used it to briefly exert pressure onto his brow - slapped his forehead, as a human might say. Frustrated he closed the activate screens and returned to the awaiting Agent's telephone line.

'' Perfect vacuum. Something in the nothing. Quite naturally a human mind is required to conclude such things''.

'' It would still be recommendable to complete the missing software, sir'' agent Gray carefully suggested with all due respect. ''Before they hack into the Source''.

A facial muscle beneath the Architect's beard twisted - his version of a grimace of dislike at the idea.

''Execute and maintain order 101b until 15:10 p.m, Agent Gray''.

'' Yes sir''. The program disappeared without further ado from the screen to carry out his mission, leaving the Architect in solitude to design the solution of the problem. With mild interest said program browsed through the history of human science in a search for alternatives, until he eventually stumbled over the answer in an old documentary from Discovery Channel.

--

At 15.10 the same afternoon a breakthrough shook the world of science: New results implied that there could be no such thing as a perfect vacuum, there remained an unknown substance in CERN's latest experiment which they quickly labelled a 'non-zero expectance'. One of the scientists stated happily:

'' _Oui, _it's possible we've found the last undocumented particle in the universe, the Higgsboson. It's believed to give every other materia its mass, so of course I'm happy we are the ones to find it''.

The news even overshadowed the only mote in their cup, the mystic disappearance of a folder containing all data from their previous experiment. Stealth was the common belief, but in that case the entire event was a mystery - no traces at all ere found of the 'thief'…

In his room the Architect simultaneously opened the deceivingly anonymous door, and threw a folder marked 'Test 49' into the marvellous light of the Source. Pleased with the act he returned to his office chair and sat down in it.

As he had known the entire time - the system lacked nothing.

* * *


	5. Newton's third law

**Title: Newton's third law**

**Summary: **To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Neo and Smith.

**Rating: **T

**Category: **Humor/Romance/General

**Pairing: **Neo x Trinity in places

**Setting: **Anywhere, any time during the six months between _The_ _Matrix_ and _Matrix Reloaded._

**Other: **Even though Newton's laws aren't meant to be interpreted this way, I couldn't help but do it.

* * *

**Newton's third law**

The ship may be cold - but it was a perfect reason to cuddle up close in Neo's bed. Neo pondered, as he raked his fingers through Trinity's hair, how it could be so warm compared to the rest of the ship. But before he had a chance to ask, she bowed down to claim his lips - and the mystery remained a mystery.

-

With a steady speed Smith drove towards Heart of the City Hotel this rainy weekend night. He passed what appeared to be a loud, drunk argument via an apartment window, and in the streetcorner a teenaged couple made no secret of that they were exploring each other's bodies. Indeed, if these irrational behaviours were examples of love he had not missed anything.

-

Neo buried his face in Trinity's neck, breathing in the arousing scent of her warm skin -sweat, soap, oil, and this yet indefinable thing that was Trinity. What would the world be without the olfactory sense?

-

After driving away all hotel inhabitants from the corridor, Smith entered an unoccupied room and closed the door behind him. He shut the windows, turned on the airconditioner and finally, after dusting off a chair three times before sitting down, was less plagued by the smell of humans in the building,

-

Before he was freed Neo considered himself a lonely wolf that was pleased with it - he didn't need anything other than the computer and a search engine. Now afterwards he had come to realize it was quite the opposite, the solitude fuelled him even more in his search for like-minded people. Nowadays Neo would never voluntarily return to his earlier life - to live in that raw solitude as Thomas Anderson again and not have all what he had now would drive him insane. .

-

Smith will suffice. With his newfound ability he would overwrite every human still hardwired to the Matrix, every program or Exile would become him, no Architect or Oracle would be needed in a world where Smith was everything.

-

"Are you coming?" Trinity regarded him over her shoulder, waiting with the Ducati's engine running. Neo gave the grey Matrix sky a last glance; fly and save time or accompany Trin on her bike? Their destination was only a few blocks away, so whatever lead he could win on flying, this self-consultation was undoubtedly eating it away. So he chose the latter one and joined Trinity, whom already had made her decision.

-

Eventually Smith finished his plotting, and left the hotel room unnoticed in order to accomplish a few tasks. The Virus entered the parking lot and unlocked his car. After all he owned a car for the purpose that it would take him anywhere in a distance longer than a mile, and thus Smith did not even regard the broad pavement or half-empty bus lane as options. He travelled in his car and it was useless to think about the time required, because inevitably the Virus would reach his appointed destination.

-

The jacket flapped behind him as Trinity easily zigzagged through the traffic jam at daredevil speed. However even rebels have to stop for a demonstration march crossing the street, and as Neo absentmindedly looked out over the sea of impatiently awaiting drivers, a familiar face among them suddenly caught his attention. First he was surprised to see Smith here of all places, but then he couldn't help but take pleasure in his arch-enemy's aggravation.

-

Car horns hooted. Exhaust fumes hovered like a cloud around him and most of all, this clot of traffic _smelled_. Smith felt nauseated, and the fact he felt something at all nauseated him even more. From the corner of his eye he could spy somebody watching him, and was instantly alerted at the sight of mr Anderson. It was really his nemesis whom sat behind that rebel-scum on a motorbike, staring steadily back at Smith with a refractory expression. Hate boiled up inside the Virus, and if he had not been a formal ex-Agent he would have vomited over his suit right then.

-

" Trin, look who's sitting in that grey car and looks like he would be right about to detonate" Neo spoke in her ear, laughter in his voice. The first mate of the Neb turned her head slightly, and a smirk tugged at her lips when she followed his gaze.

" I see. Why don't you go piss him off?" she replied jokingly.

" Good idea. Hey, why don't we drive past him just when the light turns green again, and…" Neo explained his impulse to Trinity - slightly surprising she agreed, and stepped on the gas right when the street crossing emptied.

-

Smith saw them coming in the rear-view mirror, and fumbled for the Desert Eagle to fire some bullets at their faces with. The weapon slid out of his anxious grip and dropped to the car floor with him diving after it, but he clumsily scooted it further away with his shaking hands.

Cursing himself for being so human, Smith looked up just in time to see mr Anderson and his bitch drive by on the motorcycle.

They were smirking, and gave him the finger before thundering off into the distance.

Police that later arrived to the scene couldn't understand why the man running amok kept screaming " I'll get you for this, mr Anderson!" and repeatedly kicked at the surrounding cars' tires. After a short annotation to find this mr Anderson, the practised policemen took the handcuffed person into custody.

* * *


	6. Everyday Programs

**Title: **Everyday Programs

**Summary: **Did you think pop-up windows, error-messages, Spyware and updates were extinct together with Windows XP? Think again…

**Rating: **T

**Category: **Humor/General

**Setting: **Some time before M1

* * *

**Everyday Programs**

" Hello there, mrs" the young and new-graduated seller greeted her, " do you need a SHOE BRUSH?"

Rachel Miller winced a little where she stood leant against the doorframe, not only due to the youngster's trumpeting out loud what he had to offer, but also because of his tendency to wave it in her face.

" I'm sorry, but we already have all we need..."

" I don't think so!" The seller announced triumphantly. " If you buy a shoe brush from our company you can win a FREE TRIP TO INDIA!"

She gave his twitching fingers and flashy green suit a last glance and slammed the door shut. Through the wood she could still hear him shout fanatically: "You're our thousandth customer! FREE TRIP TO NEPAL!"

Man, weren't these door-to-door sellers a pain in the rear, Rachel thought and lit a cigarette.

_The Pop-up Window_

--

Even Ed Rhineheart, president of the multimillion-company Metacortex, sometimes had to bring work home. Today he had three folders of paper stacked next to his private PC, but as the efficient clockwork orange he was mr Rhineheart counted on to be done by midnight.

The phone rang.

"The electricity board here, good evening". The voice at the other end of the line saluted. " I am calling to inform you that we will cut the power for the next three hours due to maintenance work".

Rhineheart dropped his phone to the floor.

" Three hours?" He rasped out when he had picked it up again.

" Yes, is there any serious problem with the decision?"

" I need electricity to work on my computer! This has to be done before tomorrow!"

Mr Rhineheart stared helplessly at the stacks of paper, which the phone ringer unfortunately could not see.

"And the electricity board cannot make exceptions just for you, sir. The power will shut down in ten minutes. Have a nice day".

_Click_. Even Ed Rhineheart, the president of Metacortex, was bound to swear long and smoking oaths sometimes.

_The Error-message_

--

Troy Archer. No member of Megacity's town council knew what this silent man with an unibrow and ever-correct ties did in private, and frankly they did not care. But he always carried a clipboard with him in which he took notes, so they assumed that the man at some point must have been appointed the town council's secretary. Otherwise he just sat there and stared passively at the current speaker.

Now the working day was over, and Archer were off to see his real employer. He entered a stylish French restaurant, bowed his head and said:

" Master, the board is planning to raise the transport taxes in Megacity again".

" If so" the Merovingian said without looking up from the nails he was rinsing with a table knife, "I guess we better start programming ze _tomates_ here instead of importing them".

_The Spyware program_

--

'Clonk' the mail drop sounded as a new day's consignments hit the hall floor with a thump, and whistling the mailperson began to descend the stairs again. Inside apartment 101 Thomas Anderson flinched awake from a catnap in front of the computer.

He did not read the ads or the free sample of The Sentinel that had been sent to him - No, what he wanted to find were more of a long-term interest to him than special offers on vegetables. Thomas did pay the bills that were carried to his door, but mostly he saw what came through the mail drop as another reminder of that he still was a part of the system.

_The Update._

--

* * *

A/N: I'd like to thank you guys for the reviews I got for the latest chapter, they're probably the reason this one was finished so soon after last oneshot. Thanks a million!

/Morgane


	7. My New Shell

**Title: **My new shell

**Summary: **The Oracle learns, that even to a program only desinged to _be, _change is the only constant.**  
**

**Rating: **T

**Category: **General/Romance

**Pairing: **Yes, but it will be kind of a spoiler for the story if I tell you. If you sense it's a pairing you wont like, feel free to push the 'back' button.

**Setting: **Post M3, some Matrix Online events mentioned.

* * *

**My new shell**

One hundred years after the last One had occurred none of the programs looked even a year older than when Neo were among them; The Oracle foretold the future and baked her much-appreciated cookies, whilst Seraph drank his tea in between testing all visitors fight skills. Perhaps the fashion cuts in Matrix 7.0 differed a bit from them in Matrix 6.0, and many people and some programs had of course continued where their predecessors ended.

On her own initiative, Sati had gone to school for a couple of years to get education and friends. Seraph used to follow her to the bus stop every morning, and when the bus arrived, she waved to him through the back window until they swung around a street corner. After school when he came to pick her up she often told him about the day's events, and Seraph listened without interrupting. Sati performed very well in among other things art and maths, which delighted the Oracle much since this small program by now was like a family member.

But after a couple of years, when the other sixth graders shot up like beanstalks and began to party wildly until early in the Sunday morning, Sati unnoticed vanished from school life; it became too difficult to find excuses for why she never grew older otherwise than mentally. At first the two other programs worried for how their young friend would manage to fill her days without school, but it turned out really well. Everything Sati wanted to know she looked up on the local library's Internet connection or books, and experiments with the clouds floating past above their house became another hobby.

--

The program General kidnapped her once, and Seraph tried to rescue her by boarding the helicopter they came in. He sent two men flying out of the cockpit before he were overpowered, taking four of the General's men with him as he fell into the Megacity river. Sati had searched the rapid water streams far below but not seem a white jacket fleet anywhere, and it had been her saddest moment to date.

Great woes followed the abduction. The sky turned green and bluepills fell victims to 'catastrophic illnesses', as The Sentinel newspaper expressed it. Then a rumour began to spread in the city: Seraph had survived his fall into the river - but he had changed, according to the Redpills that first encountered him at the Megacity harbour:

"He rose out of the water maybe twenty feet away from us. We couldn't tell who it was at first, and when we did we kind of froze. Couldn't believe he was alive. He hauled himself out on the pier and at for a minute. When he swivelled his head our way he became alert and fixed his eyes on MoonAvatar, staring just at her as he approached, step by step. Then without a word he just beat her to the ground, like that, for no apparent reason. She was unconscious or dead afterwards, jacked out I mean, and at that point the used his hands over her with his foot on her throat. Code flowed out like … some kind of exorcism. Finally he spoke, and this is what he said: First that she would revive but that she won't remember the past few weeks. Then, he said we need not fear him, but that there were others like her - And they should. Before we could ask questions he was gone, and that was that. MoonAvatar you've seen and he was correct of course. Now, I hesitate to speak ill of Seraph but I'll leave you with a final observation: What I sensed about him. He struck me as… insane".

Zion investigated the matter, and found the guardian angel had been exposed to large amounts of cheat codes thrown in the water by Agents later the same day. Zion refrained from arguing with Zero One whether it was on purpose or not, and instead tried to map out the effects of Seraph's unintended bath. It turned out he could detect the General's Special Commandos despite their concealing suits, This ability finally lead a group of rebels to free Sati from the General's HQ, and she immediately returned to fix what had been wrong with the sickly colored sky. The same evening the little program made a starred night sky to comfort the Megacity inhabitants, followed by plus degrees and healthy yellow sunshine the next morning. Seeing this was good, she hugged her two friends - the battered guardian angel looked a bit confused at this, but accepted the gesture of joy over being home again. After this kidnapping drama, Seraph took Sati under his missing wings to educate her in self-defence.

--

During the first years after the General's attack on them, Seraph protected the Oracle and Sati by moving them to different locations. Under these years the girl met many other programs and Exiles, and often she asked them who they were and why. Like with Flood, whom they encountered on a hectic business street where Sati tried to depicture a skyscraper.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Flood, and if you don't mind I don't have time for a chat-" The well-styled program tried to neglect her, but the girl's next question had been too stressed ever during his time as the Frenchman's employee to ignore.

"Why?"

" Because I'm a Controller of Merovingian-affiliated operatives, and I've got a meeting with one of them in five minutes-"

"Who told you to go there?"

" The Merovingian".

"What would happen if you didn't do as you're told?"

"The operatives would get mad and I would be locked up in the Blackwood or deleted. Now piss off, kid, I've got plots to fulfil!" The young man took a step to the side and disappeared in the crowd.

During their tea-break the same day, Seraph brought up a question that had been on his mind after this brief interrogation.

"Oracle, why don't you try to see something about Sati?"

"Because sometimes clairvoyance is like a flashlight in a dark room" the Oracle explained and poured sugar in her tea, "things have to come within a certain range for you to see them".

To tell the truth the Oracle had had some visions about their young friend, but in them she saw just the same things as Seraph would see if he looked through the window: Sati standing on the balcony with a sketch book in hand, drawing. The Oracle stood up and came outside to her creative young ward.

"What are you drawing, dear?"

"The sunrise I plan for tomorrow" the girl smiled, and held up the picture in purple and gold. Exactly nine hours later, the same scenery was magnified across the eastern sky.

--

Eighty years into Matrix 7,0 Sati had played together with every new litter of children in the house yard. To the potentials, which just had begun to discover the unlimited world beyond their own, she was a well-known element they didn't raise their eyebrows to. Most of them only met her twice, in relation to their unplugging or when they received a prophecy from the Oracle. A program with no other purpose than to be ages very slowly, because the task of existence rarely changes and thus not requires updates.

But now it was long since Sati showed herself in the yard together with the other youngsters, because even the youngest toddlers had grown suspicious. Older people in the house had told them about the ghost of a girl who used to live here and play with their grandparents. If you had encountered a girl with a long black plait whom played hopscotch, you had most likely seen her.

The Oracle had of course noticed the changes, they were many. Sati never seemed unhappy, rather accommodating, about the situation, but children could be secretive sometimes. Sati could spend hours outside or in her room before she came to eat dinner, often with colour stains or inkblots on her hands. The Oracle knew she drew and painted, but not exactly how good until one day upon passing the half-open door to Sati's room and stopping to peek inside.

Doves. Smith's shades with his blue eyes behind. Neo crashing into Mobil Ave's wall, beautiful views of the sky and the city, the Oracle giving a prophecy, Rama and Kamala. Sketches of pedestrians in the street, Seraph practising martial arts and in the middle, Trinity standing composed yet impatient on a platform.

"She waited for the train when we came to the Matrix" the girl said beside her. The Oracle could only guess what an impression the first human woman Sati ever seen had made. The pictures were detailed, with realistic proportions and colour tones made with gradually more refined methods and skills, but all with the same love. One couldn't believe a child had made them… Suddenly the Oracle understood what she'd missed.

"Sati, are you pleased with your life?"

Sati looked surprised at the question, but taking the Oracle's hand she lead her to the bed where they sat down. When the girl began to speak it sounded like a very difficultly formed thought.

"I'm very happy to have got to know you, Oracle. You have shown such warmth and consideration, yet never stopped me from dealing with problems myself or engage with humans. I can't thank you and Seraph enough. It's just that now I've come to a point, where it feels like it's time for a change. You see…" Sati fell silent: It felt like she demanded more than her fair share when her two friends had done so much already.

"So what would be a nice change?" The Oracle placed one arm around her young ward's shoulders, encouraging her with a smile to keep going.

"You know what's bothering me, that's why you asked if I were pleased with my life, right?"

"Yes, but as they say, I want to hear it straight from the horse's mouth".

The girl rubbed her face thoughtfully before answering.

" Okay then. I - I'd like a new shell. To grow up a tad at least physically", the girl timidly summed up her wish. The Oracle looked around at the paintings, the more advanced readings in the bookshelf and the overall demure shades that had furnished Sati's room for some time now. How she could have missed these signs was remarkable.

"You feel your outside mismatches how you feel inside?"

"Precisely!" Sati's face brightened a moment, before realization caught up with her.

"But I have to visit the Merovingian to get a new shell".

"True."

"What if he asks for something near impossible like he did to dad, or Morpheus? What if I can't pay and he deletes me or imprisons me in the Blackwood?"

The Oracle experienced a quick mental foray, like a finger dipped in water, into the future

" I see as much as that you will return here, but in what shape I can't tell. He doesn't know about your wish so far, and thus I cannot see beyond any choice he's made yet"

--

It didn't take long for Sati to decide she would at least give the idea a try - perhaps because she had had nearly hundred years to decide eternal childhood wasn't her cup of tea.

"Just tell me", the Oracle asked the same morning Sati would visit La Vrai, "is there any other reason you would like a new shell?"

The girl opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Looked at her feet.

" There is one… but it's kind of silly".

" I see".

" You might find out some day in the future on the other hand" Sati added in a helpful tone.

So the small program left the house as a little girl with an oddly mature way to walk (no skipping in the stairs or frolicking in the streets). The two other programs continued with their chores, but there were a certain anxiety under their masks. Oracle, for one, let the visions of the nearest future voluntarily come to her instead of calling for them. At least Sati wouldn't let the Merovingian have the Oracle's eyes if they attempted a trade…

Several hours passed. Eventually, upon tipping the last chocolate chips in the bowl of dough, the oracle had a vision about her ward.

"Seraph, drive down to La Vrai and pick up Sati. She has missed the last bus".

Without a word the guardian put down Martial arts through the ages and went to the door. But right before he left, his voice came hovering from the hall.

" Did she- succeed?" he asked considerately, preparing at what to expect when he arrived to the core network.

"Yes". The Oracle began kneading the dough with swift movements, "and she still likes cookies, so I'll have those prepared".

Eight o'clock sharp the door creaked open again and fragments of a mild female voice were heard from the hall. Chuckling softly Sati opened the beaded curtains and stepped into the kitchen followed by Seraph.

"Oracle!" The elder program just managed to put down the plate with cookies before she received a hug from the sweet young woman dressed in a pastel-colored dress and bolero jacket.

"My goodness, how great you turned out!" She pulled away a bit to have a look at her now full-grown ward. "Are you happy with the result?"

"Happy to the moon and back" Sati smiled timidly. "Thanks for the help".

After piling the cookies in a bowl the three programs sat down around the table and enjoyed them together with tea, juice and coffee. It was a cheerful conversation they had, but at last they were reminded of the big question:

"What was the price?"

Seraph didn't mean to ruin the pleasant atmosphere around the table, but the question had gnawed in his program mind ever since Sati had stepped inside the car. Sati's upper lip trembled, but only because it was hard to hide the smile that crept across her face.

"Nothing. Or, the Merovingian said it was a prize, but I don't consider it one". Her eyes glimmered now, and the Oracle recalled her vision.

"You're a Meteorologist with responsibility for the weather now, am I right?"

"Yes. He said altering a shell was so simple that he would do it if I only give his vineyards in California ideal weather in return".

"Not a bad trade, dear".

Seraph reached out and patted her hand.

" I will still call you Sati instead of Meteorologist, if you don't mind".

"Of course you can - it's my name".

--

The new task will prove to suit Sati well. If the climate changes are her work or not is better left unsaid to the population of the Matrix, but happy to work with one of the things she loves most the woman will give Megacity many sunny days in the summers, only to compensate them by the chilly rains during the winters.

"Just for the beauty of it", she says whether she means the water pouring down or the light streaming onto the stone yard.

Every anniversary of Neo's final fight with Smith she will begin with a great thunderstorm during the night, but it's always followed by a stunning sunrise and a clear blue sky in the morning. If this occurs on a free day many people head to the Megacity Park and enjoy the weather there. Some of them come across the bench located on a green hillside, dedicated to the memory of Thomas A Anderson. The majority of these briefly wonder who this Anderson was before they sit down and eat their sandwiches, but sooner or later will this Curious George who can't let go of their wonderings come by, and their interest may lead anywhere.

--

But that is all in the distant future. At the moment a duo sits here, shielding the dedication plate from the wind with their backs, watching the kids play just below the hill. Today when joining her young friend on a walk, the Oracle had eventually got insight in those little moments that had begun to merge like growing plants out of the earth; Sati who put her hand on Seraph's shoulder. How they now and then sat opposite each other at the kitchen table in unconstrained silence, looking at the sunrise outside. The times when the young woman sketched next day's weather and showed the guardian her picture, before putting it on 'public display'.

"You like him, don't you?" The Oracle's tone was assuming yet open to deny.

"Since I was fifty years old or so. At that age most humans have fallen both in and out of love, but because I looked like a little girl back then I was afraid people would think it was repugnant, or not take my love seriously".

"So that was the other, 'silly reason' you wanted a new shell".

" Precisely. I figured if I looked older-". Sati let the sentence hang in the air.

" It wasn't a silly motive to grow older at all, it was just right - when you're in love you want to tell the whole world. Having said this my next question might sound a bit strange, but did Seraph know?"

"Not until I came back from Le Vrai, I'd guess. Or, once when we sparred against each other, he said I was hiding something when my attacks weren't as direct as usual".

"But not even after fighting you, I knew what you were hiding" a voice sounded just above their heads. The Oracle turned to see Seraph standing behind the bench, looking down in Sati's kind face. "The ones I am protecting were all here, so I decided to join them".

" Have a seat". Sati moved closer to the Oracle to give the guardian angel room, and sitting down he gently put an arm around her shoulders. Sati mimicked the move towards Seraph, and the trio sat there in comfortable silence for a while.

" Quite a lot has changed, hasn't it?"

" You've just proved it's the only constant, dear".

* * *

Phew. This fanfic took three quite intense weeks to write, and despite coming out a a bit different from what I originally was thinking, I'm kinda pleased with it at the moment. Probably the longest one-shot, if not even story, I've written to date, and on top of that SatixSeraph, something I think I've read only once before (still very interesting to work on). Would like to thank you guys for the reviews on the two latest chapters once more, they warmed my heart even though I probably haven't replied to them. Still, let me know what you think of this one!

/Morgane


	8. Case Record

**Title: **Case Record

**Summary: **An alternate end to M3 containing bittersweet Trin and Neo fluff.

**Rating: **T

**Category: **Angst/Romance

**Setting: **Post M3

* * *

**Case Record**

Zero One had a great plan of how to preserve a life. The moment The One's body was moved from the Deux Ex Machina, small metal creatures crawled out of the corners. With lightning-quick moves they began to re-connect blood vessels, maintain heart and lung activity, repair damaged nerves and monitor his brain waves. Clearly they knew how to save their batteries, they had the best technology for it.

* * *

"We can only thank God for the cold climate in Zero One " the medics said, "it's probably a reason you haven't got any permanent brain damage".

No permanent brain damage…

What about the holes in her mind that Neo left? Neo, who now was gone?

The first weeks, Trinity hovered between life and death as the doctors did their best to patch up what the machines had began. After eighteen hours on the operation table and many side treatments, she was eventually moved to the open department. Many people there were seriously injured after the great siege, but luckily most were there just to have bandages changed or go through check-ups. Trinity recognized Tyndall in the bed next to hers, but when she discovered Neo wasn't there the rest of the room disappeared in a haze. Tyndall tried her best to make Trinity feel better, but often she only got one-syllable answers in response. The first mate's inside felt like a lead-weight, and she slept most of the time. Once Morpheus was there and told her something in a grave tone, but she was barely awake.

Eventually there came a hour when she could not sleep a wink more. She could really have used Morpheus's company now.

* * *

Much like in the Matrix, he was wired to several machines on the right side of the bed; IV, ECG, brain wave activity and more. It would take time for his body to start function independently again after being overloaded by the Source.

Until two days ago he had been in a coma that he was unsure whether had contained images or not. Then he remembered that his eyes had been destroyed, and learned from a medic that the dead tissue had been removed surgically. The doctors had only done what they had to, and he didn't complain, but with no sight to keep him busy Neo's mind soon gave in to the depressing feeling of emptiness. Trinity was gone, and the only reason he was able to think about it this clear was probably the sedatives. Once they faded, the sorrow would be fathomless. Without that special, close understanding and love she'd given him, life would be unbearable. To miss Trin and not even be able to cry for her - the lump in his throat nearly choked him.

* * *

Niobe came to visit, and looked relieved to find her friend alive and awake enough to have a hug; hopefully there would be more long, late talks at the dock in the future. Yet it was disheartening to see Trinity like this, sitting in a wheelchair with bandaged waist and a vague stare. The doctors had said it was a close call the metal pieces had pierced the spinal marrow cord, but with the right medical gymnastic she would be able to walk again.

"Do you want to see how the rebuilding is going?" Niobe put her hand on Trinity's shoulder. "Get out of here a couple of minutes?" A slow nod. Niobe went to ask the doctors for permission.

"Certainly. But I suggest you take care of pushing the wheelchair. If she does any too harsh moves the stitches might open. And you should hold on to the handlebars-" the doctor glanced hastily at the woman, who sat two beds away with her back to them- " so you can stop her from driving over an edge on purpose".

As odd as it sounded that her friend would do something so irrational, Niobe did take it into consideration when they headed outside.

They moved across railed bridges. Neither said anything while they passed people whom raked together the scrap metal of a crashed Sentinel, and the docks were traffic was almost back to normal. The always butter Locke pretended that it rained when he saw the two of them, while both captain Roland and Zee acknowledged them by stopping to talk. Others reacted like Locke, uncomfortable with seeing one of their most capable soldiers so beat. At the opposite end of a bridge, Niobe suddenly spotted a familiar figure.

"Kid?" She steered towards him, hoping that his presence would stir any more vivid reaction in Trinity than this dullness.

"Trinity! Niobe!" he came jogging towards them with that anxiety he always showed when encountering someone from the Neb, and the captain noticed his eager face. "Are you going to see Neo?"

"What?" Niobe stopped in her tracks. It was barely detectable, but Trinity's neck tensed under the loose shirt.

"Yeah, haven't you heard?" Kid looked confused. "He awoke from coma two days ago. I overheard it from one of the medics that work in the intensive department, when I visited Shimoda at the hospital…"

Niobe's eyebrows were seconds from scrunching up in an angry face. How dared he run with loose talk and give her friend false hopes? But in the same second the handlebar slid out of her grip and Trinity wheeled off at a neck breaking speed, using an arm strength her friend hadn't seen since before the siege, to gather speed.

"Trinity! Stop, your stitches will break open!"

* * *

She heard Niobe's shout and took the warning seriously enough to slow down, though just a notch. Kid might be wrong, he might have snapped up a loose rumour - but if so was the case, Trinity wanted to be the one to stop it.

"C'mon, activate!" Finally the elevator doors slid open and she rolled in, impatient as the metal box slowly lowered to the tenth floor. The doors had barely opened again before she was up and out with a few inches to spare.

She struggled around the door to the intensive department until a medic eventually helped her inside by holding up the door for the wheelchair. Anxious to see him, Trinity asked if it was true that Neo was in their care.

"As a matter of fact it's true. He's in the next room", the medic said and sounded somewhat surprised about it herself, "but he's barely batted an eyelash yet-" she almost bit her tongue at the unintentionally plump comment, but Trinity had already moved on to the following room to see Neo with her own eyes.

God above, him looked so battered lying there with bandage wrapped around his head, hooked up to all this equipment - but he was better than dead. Carefully rolling closer, Trinity eventually dared to take his hand and squeeze it, not entirely sure where to begin. Usually you should always tell a blind person who was speaking.

"Neo". Stroking a palm up to his shoulder, she could feel a flinch run through his muscles at the call. "It's me, Trinity". By force of habit, he turned his head so his nonexistent gaze rested just above her forehead.

"Is it really you…?" Before she could answer, he continued: "I need to be sure". Neo searched his mind for something only Trinity could give the right, personal answer to.

"What's my nickname for you?"

Hell, they must have drugged him really well. After this first spontaneous reaction, Trinity saw the thought behind the question.

"Don't be silly". The tone was half serious, half joking, all gentle. A second later Neo's scarred face cracked up in an overjoyed, broad and relieved smile.

"It really is you," he admitted at last, "Christ, Trin, I thought you were dead!" He grasped at the hand on his shoulder to pull his love closer, overwhelmed to feel her hair brushing against his face again.

"I've missed you". Trinity's fingers traced and retraced their path along Neo's neck, his inside humming with euphoria at the sensation. "How does it feel to have destroyed Smith?"

"Like a strange dream. Or, like all earth from Zion to the surface were between me and the Matrix".

"Luckily it is". No more words were needed between them at the moment, and as Trinity cautiously leant closer, Neo pressed his lips to hers.

A long moment they stayed like this, her fingers running through his hair, happy just to be together once more. He reached out a hand, but got caught up in some the sheets. Carelessly he tossed them aside, and eventually managed to place his hand to Trinity's cheek, leaning deeper in to the kiss.

* * *

A long alarm signal sliced through the low murmur. Swearing, medic Apolonia slammed her water cup down and grabbed the defibrillator. the small screen next to the door indicated that patient 23 suffered a heart failure.

But when she came to the intensive care department, the only visible change was that the ECG chord accidentally had been jacked out - tangled around the wrist of the patient who was very much alive and reunited with his love.

* * *

**School started this week, and to cheer myself up regarding this fact I decided to write some sweet, sappy, non-logical TriNeo-fluff with a happy end (which was very interesting to write). Hope it wasn't too OOC and that the medical terms were somewhere near right.**


	9. Amor Fati

**Title: Amor Fati**

**Summary: **So tell me agent Johnson, how many faces does a sphere have? In the hours before Neo defeats Smith, the Virus presents a different kind of philosophy to his successor.

**Rating: **T

**Category: **General/Drama

**Pairing: **Surprisingly, none

**Setting: **Matrix Revolutions, a few hours before the final fight.

* * *

With crouching shoulders, Agent Johnson fled through the world Smith had created. He ran, ran through the billowing green masses, fearing that they in any second would reach out and seize him to turn him into one of them. Yes, Agent Johnson was fearing that hundreds of hands would push him down and his fate be processed by some millions of Smith-clones, and the fact they waited to do it worried him even more- they knew he couldn't escape, no reason to hurry.

Fear. It had broken all grids in the agent's programming, sparked from all overwritten batteries through the system's code lines over to him, where it ravaged unhindered because his psyche had no defense mechanism against it. The sky roared above the thin skyscrapers like a predator behind bars as he reached the subway entrance and ran down the stationary escalator. The railing and metal steps were wet with rain, trash rattled around the polished shoes and followed him down into the waiting hall. It was murky and green-glowing like some underwater cave; only the emergency-lamps placed along the walls functioned and spread a faint glow over a few feet. The black floor tiles ate the rest.

No trains arrived, but there were Smith clones, hundreds of them – sitting on the benches, reading newspapers, wandering quietly in groups. They only turned their heads when he ran past, but it clearly said 'you live upon mercy'. Agent Johnson began to understand the human expression 'it makes you want to cry'. He took up the running again, used all his endurance to reach the bottom level of the subway. There, in what was almost like the building's blind gut, Trainman Charon was just preparing to drive his silver train out from the platform.

"Wait, program! As the leader of the Agents I order you to wait!" Johnson came up alongside the train, threw his hand out towards the metal railing of the speeding vehicle's end car. Sparks spurted around the screeching wheels when he used all of his spectacular strength to jam the train brakes, the vehicle itself trashing back and forth. When the shakings had abated somewhat, the door at the end of the observation car was flung open, and out stormed Trainman with the look of a rabies-infested street dog on his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing delaying my train?" The numerous wristwatches on his left arm glistened when he rolled up the sleeves. "I've told you rascals to stay off my track!"

The Agent tucked his hanging tie inside the suit jacket again, the only sign that he had done a daredevil run not even ten seconds ago.

"I demand to be informed on your destination".

"Me? I'm hauling my ass outta here!" The Trainman resembled a captain on a ship when he ran from side to side of the observation car and checked the damages. "Mobil Avenue is the only place that will be safe from them - can't reach the place without me…"

"Then I will follow you to this virus-free zone".

The Trainman stopped short in his doings to glare unwelcoming at the unwanted visitor. "Then you have to pay the Merovingian something".

There was a pause as Johnson processed what the program just had said:"Even under these circumstances?"

"I'm programmed to take passengers only if the Frenchman gives his permission – a bit late to change the rules now, eh?" Charon gave a crazy, bad-toothed grin from above the porch railing.

"The Merovingian is erased. Overwritten. He doesn't need anything from me".

"How unlucky for you then. Even if he was still in charge he never helps those he can't draw benefit from!"

"Then I guess I will have to pay you". Johnson grabbed the car railing and tried to heave himself up, but was stopped halfway by a shove from the Trainman's hand.

" Do you antivirus programs ever listen? Now piss off, you're hindering my departure!"

" I will board this vehicle at any cost" the Agent persisted.

"There's nothing I would want from you" Charon pouted. "A gun won't do any difference now, and if you as much as try to remove your suit in my presence-"

Johnson's patience ran out, and he pulled out the Desert Eagle from the holster. It was unusually cold and heavy in his hand, but it was oh-so-comforting to place his index finger around the familiar crook of the trigger.

"I'm sure you've experienced enough of that in your master's club to feel perfectly comfortable about it, if I had to take such measures".

Trainman scowled over the barrel.

"If we had been fighting in Mobil Ave right now, you wouldn't stand a chance against me".

To bring considerable pressure to bear, agent Johnson thrust the gun barrel violently against the program's forehead.

"Drive, or I take you as a host-program and then your mind will never see-"

Cracking and snapping sounds from inside the driver's cabin made both programs turn their heads to see what had caused such a noise. Out on the end of the observation car stepped Smith, holding a metallic lever the size of a baseball bat in his grip. Carelessly he threw it away like you would do with an empty ice lolly, because it was not useful anymore.

Johnson had no way of telling what function the instrument had had, but judging by the Trainman's facial expression it had been a crucial part of the train; he looked exactly the same as human rebels did when Johnson captured them and broke their arms. Pained.

"This is a very important tool when you drive a train, am I right? Well you have to excuse me Charon, but…"

The Trainman fled before the end of the sentence; with a panicked yelp he lunged past the two others and disappeared in the murky hall against the porches. Left stood Johnson, suddenly feeling as if his grip around the railing fettered him to the train car. Smith calmly propped himself against the metal like a tourist watching the sunset from a hotel balcony.

"He won't get far. We will stop him at the very exit of this building."

Seconds ticked away, tense like violin strings. Eventually the Virus moved, straightened his back and inhaled deeply.

"Looks like it will only be me and you for yet a while - but don't worry, we've got plenty of time".

It was something about the statement that revoked Johnson's trance-like state, and he turned his head towards the observation car.

"Why do you want to take over the system, Smith? With no humans around to oppress there's no point in ruling over the Matrix".

It was a stupid thing to say. He did not even believe in it himself, he had no indebatable or insurmountable arguments on his side. It had been uttered solely to provoke Smith.

"There are other ways to reign". The Virus stepped down from the porch, walked back and forth on the platform like a lecturer during a class before he spoke.

"Imagine the Matrix is a traditional polyhedron where each side represents a human personality. How many sides does a cube have?"

"Six".

"A tetrahedron?"

"Four". Those dark glasses aggravated the Agent; Smith knew everything about him, but stayed perfectly anonymous himself. It lay in the nature of the Agents to be the watchers, and become unsure when they weren't.

"An octahedron?"

"Eight".

"Can a polyhedron go on forever?"

"No. It is a geometric object with a finite amount of faces…" With a thud, Smith's hand landed on Johnson's shoulder and stopped his reeling off.

"Good. You've boned up on Geometry". The hint of a tilt upwards showed in the corner of his mouth as he asked:

"A sphere, then?"

Nonplussed, Johnson calculated the answer, despite already knowing what the Virus was hinting at.

"None".

"Kind of. Now consider this: A polygon can't go on forever before the faces start to lean in similar angles, look the same, you get the idea. But a sphere – it has one surface but theoretically an infinite amount of faces, sides, angles". The Virus looked almost captivated by his own speech."You see, the types of humans are limited and stereotype because they all try to be so individual…" He almost sang the last word. "Like the sides of a polyhedron. But I will be that sphere, because all faces of me is just a part of the surface".

"So you mean it's more unique to be many of one kind than one of many kinds?"

"If everyone tries to be unique, it grows common. But if I am _everything,_ I am unique".

"You want to become God" Johnson concluded. Smith ignored this comment.

"I shall be one and everything, have it all. Now that is a different kind of autocracy, and neither Mr. Anderson nor anyone else will hinder me. But I can't be infinite and omnipresent if there are places where I do not exist and beings that I am not - then they will mark my ends". The Virus stopped in his tracks to stare at a distant point of the waiting hall.

"This is also where the Trainman and you come in, Agent. You, or more correctly I, will fill up the last blank – namely Mobil Avenue – like outpost soldiers, so to speak".

There was the sound of hundred folds of stomping feet closing in, and from the stationary escalators the corresponding amount of Smith-clones descended. Charon was in the middle, involuntarily arm-in-arm with two copies that prevented him from escaping. He hung his head inside that filthy hair, the trademark gun with a snub-nose dangling tiredly from his fingers. Standard signs on resignation.

They approached along Johnson's side of the platform, and at the end of his world he did something no human had ever seen an agent do before; he shifted uncomfortably.

Smith, on the other hand, gave a creepy smile and opened the door into the observation car as if he was a host whom welcomed party guests to his lounge. Two clones separated from the procession and stepped up on the car porch, dragging Charon along. One of them paused briefly to pick up the train lever the Virus had thrown away, before they continued. The rest stayed on the platform with their Desert Eagles drawn. With hundreds of gun barrels aimed at them Johnson and Trainman were then shoved into the observation car, and escorted through the train by the two Virus-clones. The Agent calculated hurriedly his chances of survival; if he tried to escape alone they would shoot after him, and not even he could dodge for a thousand of bullets. If he took Charon as a host-program the Virus would just infect both programs in one move and still bring them with him, and it was useless to even consider that they both could escape this. Out of the frying-pan and into the fire, as humans used to say. Suddenly those creatures did not seem so troublesome and unwanted, not compared to this.

He was pushed down on a seat in the front car. Through the doorway into the driver's hut he could see how the Smith-clones placed the broken lever back into place. They manipulated the code, and a second later the wires that had snapped when it was pulled loose began to twist in a snakelike way, wound up around the lever and reattached to it.

"Now we should be ready to go again" one of the clones stated. "Bring in the Trainman".

"Once we reach the transition zone-" The other made a move as if he jammed his fist into his colleague's chest, then stretched out to correct the tie.

"Thank you". They brought in Charon, and through the closed door Johnson could hear them cock their guns; the clones might not show it, but to them the Trainman was just a temporarily sedated grizzly bear that still needed surveillance. The doors slid shut, and reluctantly the train sped up again. Wheels that Trainman hadn't had time to fix jarred against the rails, but they still rolled forward. The Agent stared into the dark tunnel, and it occurred to him that behind the fake brick walls in the part of the Matrix there was only nothingness. Even if he stepped off the vehicle now, there was nowhere to go afterwards.

One of the Smiths came into the passenger car to keep an eye on him, and sat down across the passage. Was he seeing things, or did the clone beam gloatingly at him?

"Do you know, Agent Johnson, what the expression 'Amor Fati' means?"

"'Love your fate to see everything in life, even suffering and loss, as good because it's destiny's way of reaching its ultimate purpose". He was apathetic and slumped over, the Clone sneering.

"Then do it".

* * *

**A/N: Comments and constructive critisism are very welcome, and thanks to you guys who have read and commented this far!**

**I haven't boned up on neither Latin nor the philosopher Nietzsche as much as it may seem, I found the motto somewhere else and didn't read until now on Wikipedia what it can be interpreted as. I have had the idea for this fic for many months, but didn't feel like typing up until now. Anyways, hope you guys liked it and have a nice Valentins day tomorrow!**

**(Minor edits made 30.3.2009)**


	10. Keep your shirt on

**Title: Keep your shirt on**

**Genre:** Romance/General

**Pairing: **Neo x Trinity

**Setting: **Sometime between M1 and M2.

**Summary: **While the Neb is repaired, Trinity's away on a mission, which leaves Neo restless in the night. Overall fluff that especially near the end shouldn't be taken too seriously.

**Rating:** T

* * *

His muscles weren't soft, relaxed lines under the blanket; instead they were tense as if he was running in the bed. He didn't want the morning with its tired eyes and slow mind to arrive, but the boredom of the night was just as unnerving.

Drab. That was how you could describe the past seven days without Trinity, as she was away on two week's duty assisting another crew in their investigations of the sewers. After the Sentinel-attack on the Neb and the majority of the crew's demise, the remaining members had muddled along with makeshift reparations until commander Locke finally had threatened to impose a driving ban on the ship if nobody attended to the damages –"you show a lack of judgment for driving around in that half-opened sardine jar!" Now the Neb was in dockward, and the crew took part in the repairs or went aboard other ships to not need to make up for lost working-time later. Neo had decided to stay in Zion and help out stitching up the ship; he felt a bit guilty for its unraveling in the first place. The One or not, he willingly did his share.

But two weeks alone in the apartment was a trying experience; at any time the ship Trinity temporarily co-piloted could, touch wood, be attacked and blasted to pieces by Sentinels. If it happened these two weeks wouldn't seem just like a long tedium, but like a great loss. It would sure take a while before this period of time would feel like a mere blip in their existence.

Neo sighed and rolled over at his side, gazing at the pillow that lay like a fluffy snowdrift on the untouched side of the bed. He half expected her to come out from the shady kitchenette at any second and slump back against it, muttering that she had fetched some water.

Lying in bed wasn't just boring without Trin; it was colder, too, partly because the gigantic main boiler in Zion's engineering level was temporarily shut off to be cleared of cinders. Trinity once said that before Neo came along, she used to handle chilly nights 'with two pairs of shirts and a blanket'. It sounded like a good idea, but unable to find his thickest shirt, Neo assumed he had left it back at the Neb. Well, he managed with just the blanket - if only sleep would come as easily...

Half an hour later, he was fed up with tossing and turning, and got up to take a turn in the apartment. If he was going to be sleepless it probably didn't matter if he was it in bed or any other place.

How did someone become ever-present in your mind? Was it when they used the same knives and spoons as you, and it wasn't until that person was away you noticed there was some unused cutlery in the drawer? It had been so natural that they were together that the first morning of this week he had poured up two meals of glop without even thinking of it. Rather than throwing away precious food, he had eaten them both. At least he wouldn't be a starved skeleton when she came home.

In the hallway he squatted down in front of a wooden box the size of an old-fashioned barrel organ, and opened it. At the bottom lay two of Trinity's shirts, or rather the ones given to her. Redpills received clothes from their respective ship's stores, and when they died, all clothes but the ones they wore in death were passed on to a newly unplugged person.

But he didn't intend to wear the navy blue shirt he now picked out and carried back to the bed. He carefully placed the shirt on his own pillow, and pulled the blanket over himself again before he laid down to rest his head against the garment.

The warm fabric scraped against his jaw, spreading a sense of familiarity. It had a genuine scent of the Neb to it, engine oil and greased metal, which almost drowned what was uniquely Trinity's - something that came from cool living areas and coarse soap. There were the mendings, the ripped off sleeve from when she dried his bleeding mouth with a piece of it during his and Smith's fight in the subway. A hairstrand nestled into the meshes at the back.

Tomorrow he would fold it carefully and put it back in the box again, exactly as it had been. It would be too embarrassing to explain to Trinity why an unused shirt looked ready for ironing. If she found out that he had more or less used it as a comfort blanket during his time as a grass widower, Christ knew what she might believe.

Wait, no. She would think nothing much about it. Neo smiled, on the brink of falling asleep. He suddenly knew exactly where his missing shirt was.

_Keep your shirt on. It's just a week._**

* * *

**

**A/N: So I've been dipping my toe in the Constantine-fandom and splashed about wildly in the ground waters of the Heroes-section, but now I'm back here. As some of you might know, 'keep your shirt on' is an idiom that means 'be patient' - I thought it was a more interesting title than just 'Shirts'. Anyways, comments and constructive critique are very welcome, and many thanks for the reviews so far!**

**Minor edits done 14.02.2010**

/Morgane


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